The Measure of a Man
by Velveteenrabbit
Summary: Human bodies are so very delicate. It only makes sense that the Autobots pay close attention to their fragile friends. A collection of drabbles on Autobots' thoughts towards humans.
1. Center of Emotion

**The Sum of Their Parts**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. If I did, I wouldn't be struggling to pay for college now.

**Heart: **[hahrt] -noun1.A hollow, pumplike organ of blood circulation, composed of rhythmically contractile smooth muscle, located in the chest between the lungs and slightly to the left.

2. The center of emotion.

Ratchet knows everything about the human heart without really understanding it; its close link to human emotions will, he suspects, always baffle him. He often thinks that the human heart, compensating for its lack of size, makes humans feel emotions far more intensely than the Cybertrons.

Logically, Ratchet knows that it's not truly the heart that creates feelings and emotions, but the brain, sending a potent cocktail of chemicals and hormones. Still, the way that tiny organ pumps faster in stress and excitement, and slows in the moments of peace and happiness, serve as a far more accurate judge of human moods than faces, words, or actions.

As fascinating as it all is, it terrifies Ratchet that the slightest touch to that fragile organ could end the life, extinguish their spark. Such a delicate little pump, he thinks, should not determine the fate of someone so vibrant and alive. The tiny little wad of muscle doesn't even have the ability to put itself into stasis when injured, and will keep on pumping, even if it means its death.

Whenever Sam is on base, visiting, talking, laughing, painfully alive, Ratchet is relieved. But it's at night, when Sam is asleep, that he looks far too much like the dead; nothing to prove he is still alive but the faint rise and fall of his breathing. Ratchet has a habit of sneaking into his room (because even though he doesn't live on base, it will _always_ be Sam's room) and scanning him, making sure that little heart is still going strong. He knows that one day, he'll hear nothing but silence from the human's chest (humans after all, are so short-lived). But today it's still pumping, playing out a quiet little march, and Ratchet knows that he'll do everything in his power to make it keep pumping.

A/N: Hey, it's my first Transformers fic! I tried to get down Ratchet, but it's been a while, and it's so very difficult to write him. Well anyways, please review! (constructive criticism is welcomed)


	2. Windows to the Soul

**Eyes**

**Disclaimer-**If I owned Transformers, I wouldn't be in college. I'd be rich.

The first time the Autobots researched humans, Optimus wondered how this (their landing, Decepticons, the All-Spark) would turn out. After all, humans didn't have the best track record for peace and wars; just looking at some of the things on the 'internet' makes Optimus wonder if contacting humans, even landing on Earth, is a good idea.

Since meeting them, Optimus has revised his opinion. His initial impression of humans, fragile and capable of both tremendous compassion and cruelty, has not changed. He has, however, added other traits to describe humanity. They are brave, emotional, and most importantly, at times lacking a functioning sense of both self-preservation and common sense.

At times, Optimus wonders if their optics (eyes, he corrects himself) are sending the proper signals to their brains. It would certainly explain things like how humans had the courage to defy, much less fight, walking weapons many times their size.

But when Optimus looks into their eyes, he feels as though he understands why so many humans have declared the eyes as "the windows to the soul." Since that first meeting, he's met with plenty of humans and seen in their eyes hatred, fear, selfishness, and despairs of ever truly being welcomed on this planet. His doubts, time and time again, have been dispelled by the humans he has the honor to call friends; their humor, compassion, loyalty, and courage never cease to astound him. Optimus can not help but to pity Megatron in his blindness. If only he took the time to look at them, he would realize his folly, realize the worth of humanity.

Optimus has seen the eyes of the dead, glazed and unblinking, lifeless. It is a sight that haunts him, another loss in a war that is not truly theirs. In these moments, Optimus knows despair.

There will never be another planet like Cybertron. Optimus knows this, and deep in his spark is an emptiness as he grieves for his lost home and friends. But as he stands, looking out to the sky for the first signs of his lost comrades arriving, he looks down at the tiny human standing next to him, and looks into him. Optimus sees the worry and fear, but also the trust, loyalty and friendship-so much emotion conveyed in silence. Again, Optimus looks upwards, to that canopy of stars, that gaping wound inside him a little smaller, a little fuller. For the first time in vorns, Optimus Prime feels hope.

A/N: Meh, not quite what I was going for but I got tired of rewriting it. So, as you've noticed, I've changed the title to "The Measure of a Man." Why? Because I'm planning to write a companion fic to these coming from the human side on the Autobots. Anyways, you people are both awesome and horrible. Over 300 views, 15 favorites/story alerts, and only five reviews. PLEASE REVIEW, they help me write and improve.


	3. Ten Little Piggies

**Toes**

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

Ironhide's always been a soldier. His frame was built with no unnecessary parts; his body is literally a weapon (the cannons are, he thinks, just adding to perfection). Everything has its own purpose, nothing goes to waste.

It often confuses him how humans have managed to survive for so long. Their teeth are blunt, without fangs or venom, their jaw strength weak. They can't run fast, their night vision (and heat vision, and just their vision in general) is poor. The have no claws, no sense of smell and, Ironhide concludes after Mission City, no sense of danger. Not to say that Ironhide doesn't respect them-his partnership with Lennox is one of the best he's ever had. It's just that sometimes humans can be so confusing, full of unnecessary parts; hair and the appendix being perfect examples of useless organs. The body part that fascinates Ironhide the most, though, is the toes. Logically, Ironhide can understand the concept- they are versatile and help keep balance.

A few months back, Bee had excitedly sent a nearly incomprehensible message about toes and being able to pick up objects or eat with them, (or something like that; Ironhide tuned it out after a while) so Ironhide knows he's not the only one intrigued. Still, no matter Bee's raving about the amazing human toes, Ironhide still can't help but to wonder about the practicality of having ten little fragile nubs of flesh hanging off a foot.

He stays at Lennox's house often, watching as they eat, talk, and play. He is comforted to know that humans must likewise be enamored of toes, singing about "ten little piggies" and tickling them. A common game in the house is the "penguin walk", where Annabelle stands on her father's feet, grabs his hands, and walks as he does. She's tried it with Ironhide too, standing entirely on one foot, grasping one finger with both tiny hands as he takes careful steps, hunched over so Annabelle, shrieking with laughter, can hold on.

Ironhide's heard it said that it's the little things that live with a person forever, even after the subjects of the memories are long gone. Earth is a beautiful planet, all blues, greens, and color. Its landscape, the oceans, forests, mountains, and sunsets, are all breathtaking. But despite its beauty, Ironhide knows he'll remember this sight whenever "Earth" or "humans" is mentioned to him: Annabelle standing on his foot, fingers grasping his own, head craned up to beam at him with rosy cheeks while her ten warm tiny toes curl and wriggle against the hard metal of his foot.

**A/N:** Oops, I'm soo sorry that it took a such a long time to update. Finals, holiday shopping, and housing applications caught up to me. I also lost my writing notebook, so I had to start this chapter over again (which is why it sucks). For those of you who are wondering, the part about Bumblebee raving about toes is from a story I read where Bee discovers that humans can pick things up with their toes (and is jealous). Anyways, I don't know when the next chapter will be up, since I've lost my notebook, and have to redo all my chapters. Sorry, and thanks for your patience!


	4. Meant to Hold

**Hands**

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

If Bee were to list everything he loved about humans, it's likely that his voice processors would wear out and break again. He loves their resilience, determination, their humor and love. Bee adores Earth and its colorful, wonderful lands inhabited by colorful, wonderful people. He cherishes the humans that have made their way into his life-Mikaela, the soldiers, Judy, Ron, and Sam. He loves their laughs and smiles, their eyes, their courage. But most of all, Bee loves their hands.

Even now, his most vivid memory of first "meeting" Sam as a car are hands, pulse pounding, grasping his wheel, the awestruck, almost reverent brush of fingers against his Autobot symbol. All it takes is that first contact, and Bee is hopelessly, uncontrollably in love with humans.

Since then, he's had dozens of "hands-on" experiences; Mikaela doodling invisible patterns on his windows and upholstery with her fingers, Ron's hesitant, nervous pats, Sam's soapy hands washing away dirt and grime. From scanning the internet and other information databases, he knows that every person's fingerprints are different- Bee never quite understands why very few sources ever mention the hand, or the palm too. To him, every person's hands are different, with their own calluses, sizes, scars, telling more about their lives and personalities than fingerprints ever could. Bee's pretty sure that even if his optics were broken instead of his voice processor, he'd still be able to tell a person's identity just by holding their hands.

Well, if he could hold their hands-such a task is harder than it sounds, as his hand is big enough for a full grown adult (or two) to stand on his palm. He sometimes longs for the casual intimacy of holding hands, wants to touch without being afraid of breaking something or someone.

His hands are metal. He can punch a Decepticon through a building, tear out energon lines. Acts of violence and war come naturally to Bee-he is, afterall, a soldier. Before coming to Earth, hed never paid much attention to his hands. It wasn't until he first met humans, with their casual pats and brushes, that he was aware of the difference between the two races. Even when interacting with others of their kind, Autobots always had to be careful; too much force and carelessness could easily send a smaller Autobot flying, complete with the harsh clang of metal against metal. They were all fighters; they had strong hands.

Sam patted Bee affectionately on the hood, mumbling thanks before all but sleepwalking into the house (too much studying? Bee wondered). The residual heat from the boy's palm lingered on longer than it should have, leaving behind the feeling of warm hands. Autobots certainly were stronger, more suited for battle. But Sam's hands, human hands were something different, better; those hands were meant to hold.

A/N: Ack, I didn't mean for this to sound so sappy, but I had to rewrite this a couple times since I lost the original. Sorry for taking so long, the combo of RL, jobs, and losing my writing notebook pushed this release wayyy back. Also, I plan to ignore DotM since I haven't watched it. The next chapter will probably be the last, and probably won't be done for at least a month (working on too many things at once). Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews (they were what reminded me to keep working on the chapter).


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